Our Saving Grace
by Raina220
Summary: What if Mr and Mrs Bennet did have a son but was drowned at sea? Could the Bennets and Darcys learn to heal together? And what on earth is to become of Collins?
1. Chapter 1

It was late at night and the fire was almost burnt down to ash in Darcy's study. The house was full of tranquil silence as the master sat staring at the dying embers with a glass of half finished port clutched in his hand. The events of summer plagued him and sleep seemed like a faraway inaccessible land.

"If only I had warned Georgie about him!" he whispered mournfully

He wished so very much that his friend Bennet was alive. With 5 younger sisters of his own, he would surely understand Darcy's pain. Yet, it was not to be and he was left to drown his anguish in his port.

In a moment of certainty, he decided to accept Bingley's invitation, if only to spare his sister the pain of being near him.

OSGOSGOSGOSGOSG

The early morning rays tickled the hills of Hertfordshire, enveloping them in a dreamy halo. Elizabeth Bennet, gaily collected lavender stems in her wicker basket

The sweetness of the morning air brushed her face and she laughed merrily at the fowl trying to escape the confines of her father's fence.

By the time she arrived back home, the house was already starting to stir with excitement that only a household of 6 ladies could bring.

Elizabeth gave her gloves, pelisse and bonnet to a footman and hurried to the distillery to check the progress of her newest concoction.

After making sure the distiller was working smoothly and placing her basket on the counter she made her way upstairs to change her gown.

As she sat in front of the vanity while Betsy styled her hair she contemplated how much the household had changed over the course of a few years. If only….

"No I mustn't think of such things" she said firmly to herself.

"Excuse me Miss Lizzy?"asked Betsy and she twisted and tugged Elizabeth's hair into place.

"Hmm? Oh nothing, I was merely praising your patience in dealing with such unruly hair as mine." She replied, relieved that Betsy was not of an intrusive nature.

Just as Elizabeth picked up her shawl, a lighting storm of pink muslin and ribbon rushed into the room.

"Lizzy!" said Lydia as she gasped for breath "Lizzy you must make me more jasmine water I am all out. It would not do for me to smell like a farm hand."

"It is almost ready Lydia. I promise to have it sent to your room by this afternoon"

"Oh but what shall I do in the meantime?" grumbled the youngest Bennet.

"Here use some of mine. It isn't jasmine of course but I believe it will keep you from smelling like a farm hand did you say it was?"

She grinned as she handed her sister the vile of delicately lavender scented liquid.

"Thank you Lizzy" breathed Lydia as she left the room with as much flamboyance as she entered it.

***** OSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSG

In another part of the house, a tired Mr Bennet made his way up the front door. He handed his outerwear to the butler and walked into his study, his sanctuary. Mr Bennet, much like his third eldest, was not prone to unhappiness and this uncharecteristic display of depression was most unusual. He delighted in the follies of the world, the knowledge brought by books, satires and most importantly the pleasure and pride that came with tending to his ancestral lands. The Bennets had inhabited Longbourne since the time of Edmund the Unready, and it gave much grief to think that the hard work of many generations would be handed over to a man that didn't even bear the name of Bennet.

For many long minutes Mr Bennet stared at the seven portraits of his wife and children. To him, it almost seemed like eternity as he gazed with glassy eyes at the faces his six children and his beloved wife.

A/N: Hello everyone! It's my first time writing fanfiction. I've read fanfiction for over 5 years and I had so many ideas floating around I decided to type this up on my phone.

Let me know what you think in the reviews! Constructive criticism is welcome.

*I do not own any of Jane Austen's characters. All of Pride and Prejudice original characters belong to Jane Austen. Except the characters that I myself have came up with.*

*This is an original story by Raina and no one is allowed to use this text without my permission.*


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Let me know if you'd prefer longer updates or for me to update short chapters. I personally prefer long chapters. This one felt short to me.**

A young man of eight and twenty ran his hand through his flaxen hair. He stood on the side of a picturesque cliff surrounded by the untamed Scottish beauty. Waves rolled onto the sand and the sun poked out from above the fog.

He looked out into the sea, the same sea that had swallowed him four long years ago. An indescribable feeling of longing settled into him. He knew nothing about himself, his family, or anything. Captain Jones had been kind enough to rescue him and bring him back with him to Scotland on the _Regina_. Had it not been for him, he would probably be dead. He remembered the day clearly.

" _Captain! Captain there is a man overboard!" cried one of the sailors._

" _Overboard? Where?" replied Captain Jones for in all his years never had his ship rescued a man from the terrors of the sea._

 _When the captain bent over the side of the Regina, he witnessed a sight he could never forget. A young man lay atop a log. His hair matted to his body and his clothing torn to shreds. His face was terribly bruised, but he seemed to at least be breathing._

" _Drop the ladder, you there!" barked the captain as he immediately sprung to his duty. "Drop the ladder down and one of you bring him up. See to it that his injuries are not agitated."_

 _Two of his men dove into the sea and the surface of the tranquil water cried out in protest generating splashes. They hauled him up the ladder and handed him to an awaiting member of the crew that took him down to one of the spare cabins._

 _Captain Jones was astonished that the man still lived. There was a gash on his head and he sustained quite a few broken bones and bruises. His clothing, though soaked and torn, proved to be of fine material from which the captain deduced that he was either a son of a gentleman or a peer._

" _What should we do with 'im capt'in?" asked the man that had carried Peter down._

" _I shall tend to his wounds myself. Have the chest of medical supplies brought here immediately. He is fortunate that the salt in the sea prevented infection."_

" _Yes sir." replied the sailor and spun on his heel to fulfil his orders._

" _Who are you young man? And how did you get here.?" whispered Captain Jones to the frail and unconscious body lying in front of him._

The Captain had taken him into his home and told the rest of the town that he was a distant cousin of his English wife. Mrs Jones hailed from Essex and had moved to Scotland after her marriage to Captain Jones. She was a kind woman with classical English looks. A pert nose, rose bud lips, blonde and blue eyed, the epitome of an English rose. She reminded him of someone he couldn't even remember. In his dreams he would hear the voices of multiple young ladies and see the faces of multiple young ladies of varying ages. When he woke up however, the faces would be blurred into the night's air and he would still not know who the lady was that Mrs Jones resembled.

Sometimes in his dreams would hear lilting voice sing the words of a gentle lullaby. The words were imprinted into his mind. Engraved into his very being, and he only wished he knew who the woman was.

A sound of another person approaching startled him out of his silent reverie. He stood up and dusted the sand off his breeches.

"Good morning Mr Edwards!" greeted the town's parson.

"Good morning Revered." he replied with good cheer.

Mr Smith was the most beloved parson of their small seaside town. His grizzly hair and hearty laugh did much to recommend him. Unlike others, he did not believe in patronizing his flock and instead believed in guiding them with kindness and leading by example. No one however, could ever understand the mystery of his ways. His eyes held much wisdom, yet twinkled with mischief. His cryptic responses and ability to never miss anything was a source of much awe.

"What are you doing out here so early in the morning young man?" asked Mr Smith

"I was desirous of a morning stroll Sir. And you? What brings you out?" He replied

"Well young man, I felt that someone along the coast was in need of companionship." said the parson

"Well sir. I hardly think the fish have beckoned you. Am I right to assume that you observed me walking out and realized my company is too grand to be missed?" the flaxen haired man asked with mirth sparkling in his sea green eyes.

"You Mr Peter Knightly are too impertinent for your own. And it hardly matters that you hail from an influential family, so don't blame your impertinence on your social standing. Anyways I believe that rich young gentlemen are to be pleasing and affable. Not impertinence!" replied Mr Edwards. "How on earth are we to find you a wife if you insist on such impertinent behaviour!" cried the parson with mock severity.

"Come now sir," Peter began,"I hardly know who I am. Just because my tongue sounds like I hail from rich landed gentry hardly means I am one. For all I know I am the cousin of a captain's wife. I could be a humble farmer's son you know."

The parson looked at Peter with sad compassion in his eyes. He understood all too well the struggle Peter went through.

"Don't worry my boy, I can assure you that one day you will be reunited with your family." After a moment of solemn silence he continued on a lighter note "Although I had thought that during the past four years you had become an honorary son to me. You could have informed me you found my company lacking before you indulged in all the pastries made by my cook! I am most seriously displeased!"

Peter laughed at the man that had become as dear to him as a father ever could be "Ah well no one can resist when so much temptation is before them. Pray tell me, has Mrs Higgins made any more of her blueberry tarts?"

Their troubles forgotten for the time being, the two men laughed and continued up the trail leading to the Captain's home.

OSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSGOSG

Upon reaching the house they were greeted by the Jones' housekeeper. Captain and Mrs Jones lived in a well kept home by the edge of the town. Although it lacked the grandeur of many country homes, it had an air of love and comfort that made the lack of oriental rugs and painted tables from East India, unnoticeable.

They were directed into the morning room where Mrs Jones sat with her two children. Anna, eight years old, had taken an instant liking to Peter 4 years ago. She had declared him the most princely man of her young acquaintance and the two quickly became accomplices in stealing pastries from the kitchen. Little John was only 3 years old and was the light of everyone's eyes. He took after in mother in both looks and manner and both mother and child possessed such happy manners that enabled them to form friendships wherever they went.

"Good morning cousin." Peter greeted with a bow as the children scampered for his attention.

"Good morning Peter. And good morning Mr Smith. Would you like to join us for breakfast?" asked Mrs Jones.

"Why yes that would be lovely. I do hope that Cook has made her lemon scones today. I do long for a scone."

"Well you're lucky sir. I believe they await us in the dining room." replied Mrs Jones with a ready smile.

As they proceeded into the dining room, Peter couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a feeling of nostalgia. It was a common occurrence for him, but to this day he still didn't know what it was that he missed.

" _Who am I?"_ he wondered before shaking his head and attending to the children seated beside him.

 **A/N: Hello everyone! I was utterly overwhelmed by the response. Last time when I posted I was so excited to have written something that my excitement addled mind didn't register any of the mistakes I made.**

 **Guest: Thanks for pointing out the line breaks and spelling mistakes! I thought the line breaks were inserted but they didn't show up. I confess I didn't even realise I changed the county name from Hertfordshire to Herefordshire. Thanks!**

 **Pier: Yes! You're right! I will never write on my phone again. In my excitement to publish I completely neglected to read everything over a few times. Thank you!**

 **And the illins was a spelling mistake for Collins.**

 **Guest: You'll have to wait and find out how he drowned. :) it would ruin the surprise if I told you. :)**

 **.darcy: I'm flattered that you think it's an interesting concept, with such a lovely story like yours.**


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